Immortal
by aletheakatherine
Summary: I promise this is the last in my mass upload of old fics XD
_How it happened, they'll never know. Perhaps it was the fact that they are both immortal..._

It's a dark night in New York, and Steve zips his jacket up to ward off the wintry night chill. The lights of shops are bright around him, reflecting against glass windows and facades of adjacent and opposite buildings. He checks his watch again desperately, a still figure amidst the bustle and business of New York.

She's so late, he thinks, almost irritably. Both of them are so late.

The restaurant behind him is so tempting. It smells delicious, and it's so warm inside, all the lights and the food. Not the people, though. Steve has learned not to trust too many people.

"Steve," says a voice behind him, and he turns, half wary, half eager. He's learned to be wary of everything and everyone. Everyone except her.

He nearly falls for it too, because the golden hair and sparkling eyes and sweet smile are so very Sharon. Almost takes her into his arms to hug her, almost strokes her hair. She's always been sly, this one, so many secret identities and flawless covers.

Before he can do anything truly embarrassing, the slender girl - woman, really - in front of him removes her disguise, wearing the same cocky half-smile Steve has missed so much. He almost takes the fiery-haired agent into his arms anyway, but refrains at the thought of what Sharon would say.

"Natasha," he says, almost too formally.

"Hey." She waves a hand at the restaurant behind him. "Sorry about being late." She makes a face. "Had some stuff holding me up."

Steve doesn't answer. The real Sharon's here, goddess-like, glowing in the city lights, and Steve smiles at her. She doesn't say anything, just walks into his arms like he knew she would, like she always does. Natasha looks unconcerned, merely waits patiently. When Steve releases Sharon, Natasha gives them her little sardonic half smile again, her trademark one. "If you two are ready..." she prompts, gesturing again at the restaurant.

They go inside, get their table (reservation for three) and order. Natasha sits back, confident, calculating, bold. Steve's struck again by the strength of her personality. How long again has it been since he last saw her in person?

"So," she says. "You two having fun? Been on a lot of shared missions?"

"Thought you'd already know," Sharon quips.

"I only act like I know everything," Natasha says, and Steve tries not to wince, remembering a time when she'd told him those same exact words. Sharon just laughs, returning to Natasha's original question.

"Yeah," she says, beaming, holding Steve's hand tightly beneath the table. "Definitely." She and Steve are on one side of the booth, across from Natasha. Sharon thinks it's more comfortable this way. Steve doesn't think it's comfortable any way.

"How about you?" Steve asks. "How have you been doing? Last time I saw you, you were recovering from a bullet wound and a direct missile strike." He hasn't tried too hard to remember the winter soldier who turned against him, unconscious Natasha, wounded Natasha, nearly dead Fury, but the memories are there nevertheless.

"I've been holding up," Natasha replies, almost thoughtfully. But he thinks he can detect a slight tremble in her voice.

Dinner goes by in dull silence. Natasha finishes quick - she's always swift and neat and organized in everything she does - and makes as if to leave. "Fury will want me back at the place," she says. "So I'll be off."

Impulsively, Steve reaches out, catching at her wrist. "Natasha. Wait."

She turns back quizzically, eyebrows raised.

Steve fumbles a little with his words, trying not to flush too much. "I haven't seen you for years and you're just going to slip away like this? Natasha... I thought you knew me."

"I did," she affirms, and somehow that comment stings. Maybe it's the past tense. But she just shrugs at him. "Alright."

"Can we talk in private?" He bites his lip nervously. She just nods. He knows she had already guessed he wanted to see her in private.

She strolls out ahead of him into the night, her heels clicking against the sidewalk, red hair swaying against her back. He realizes with a pang that she's wearing it the same way as she did when he last saw her. She's always changing her hair to hide her identity, so it's a bit of a shock at first, although it's also somehow reassuring.

"I'm glad you finally took Sharon as your date," Natasha says, giving him her half smile again. Honestly, the expression suits her, he thinks absently.

"Yeah," he says at last, not paying much attention. "Sharon."

Natasha sighs. "Alright, Rogers, what did you make me come out here for?" She hugs herself. "This dress isn't particularly warm, you know."

"Oh. I..." The words come out all at once. "I guess I just missed you...is all. I got really used to having you around for a while there, y'know." He gives her a half smile of his own, and she returns it.

"Yeah," she says, looking away. "Me too, I guess." She laughs. "We got pretty chummy there, didn't we? All that trusting each other with our lives and such. Fury told us not to trust anyone, didn't he?"

"I still do, you know," he says, ignoring her last comment. "Trust you, I mean."

She nods thoughtfully, looking off into the distance. "Yeah. Me too." She turns back to him, giving him a real smile at last. "Honestly, Rogers, you could have said this inside, you know. We didn't have to come out here."

"I guess so." He steps forward absently, lost in her green eyes, and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She smiles at him uncertainly.

"I should go," she says. Steve doesn't want her to, but he doesn't have the willpower to stop her. So he just nods at her, watching her leave.

"Natasha," he calls out, before she's out of earshot. "I'll see you around."

She turns back to flash a smile, calls back, "See you around!" Then she's gone, like a ghost slipping beyond his reach, and he heads back in towards Sharon.

Before he's out of sight, Natasha breathes his name under her breath, and quickens her pace.

It's a party. Steve's never been one for parties, but Sharon begged and begged for him to come, and he just couldn't bring himself to say no to her. So here he is, feeling entirely out of place dancing to loud music with Sharon in his arms, holding a glass of alcohol - because how could any Stark party survive without alcohol?

He should've known Natasha would be there too, because she and Stark are friends (if not more, he adds mentally) and besides, if nothing else Black Widow has to be here for security purposes. He spots her red hair a few minutes after he arrives, notes the stunning blue dress she's wearing and the little black handbag she carries.

But when Sharon arrives, all thoughts of Natasha are banished from his mind, because to him Sharon is even more beautiful. Her golden curls hang like a halo around her girlish face, her eyes dancing with life. He doesn't regret having chosen her at all. And unlike Natasha, Sharon actually calls Steve by his first name rather than his last, and she's a normal person, not some nearly immortal, eternally youthful, former KGB agent.

Natasha spots him at one point. He pretends not to notice. He doesn't notice too much anyway, because Sharon is kissing him and it feels so good. Natasha doesn't know what to feel either - she's so happy for Steve, she forgets to worry about herself.

"Natasha," Stark says from behind her. He's clearly drunk, so she's sure to give him a little space. "You free tonight?"

She glances back at Steve and Sharon, feeling a little thrill of joy for them, and turns to Stark. "No," she says apologetically. "But I'm sure Pepper is." She spots Clint and starts after him, leaving Stark standing alone like a fool.

"Barton!" she calls his name. "Barton!"

He turns, greets her with a grin. "Romanoff. Having fun?"

She nods slightly. "Depends on your definition," she shrugs. "Anyway, how've you been, Clint?"

"Reasonably well. And you?" He takes her hand gently.

"Well enough," she comments nonchalantly. "Missed you. We Avengers need to have a block party or something once in a while to stay in touch. Keep the spirit going."

Once, she and Clint had been truly close. Not so much anymore. Natasha regrets that. She wonders how Thor and the rest are doing - seems like it's been forever since she last saw them all together.

"Looks like Steve's got himself another girl, eh?" Clint says, spotting Sharon. "I always figured a handsome guy like him would get somebody, someday."

Natasha laughs slightly and just shrugs, nodding. Steve is lucky to have Sharon. Sharon is lucky to have Steve. They are good for each other.

"Well, I'm too busy to be spending my whole night here," Clint says. "See you."

She doesn't want him to go, but she doesn't have the willpower to stop him, either. Just before he's out of earshot, though, she calls out, "See you around, Clint!" He turns back to give her a smile, and then he's gone, lost to the shadows.

Her phone blinks on. She checks the screen.

It's a message from Fury. To the Avengers...

Evidently what Fury wants is mainly to regroup. To make sure everybody is still in contact, still operational. There are some remote threats, but nothing immediate. They are to keep their eyes open.

Frankly, Natasha still smells corruption within SHIELD. She's naturally distrustful of any organization that's in bed with the government, and of anyone who claims their ultimate goal is "world peace." They're either liars or fools. Natasha doesn't have patience for either species.

Anyway, Fury emphasizes the merits of teamwork. He even specially pairs Steve and her, reminding them of their success with the Winter Soldier. Natasha doesn't know what to think. It is what it is.

Later that night, she and Steve are alone at his apartment, just the two of them. She sips on water quietly as he pours himself a glass of orange juice.

"Teamwork," she says suddenly. "We can do that, right?"

He waits for a long moment, hesitating. At last he nods. "Yeah."

She grins, leaning towards him, across the kitchen island. "It's not so hard. Just pretend you're doing it for Sharon. Or with Sharon. Whichever works." She pulls back again.

"Yeah?"

She nods, giving him her half smile again. "Yeah."

He answers with his own cheeky grin. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Agent Romanoff."

"No?" She raises her eyebrows. "Care to enlighten me, Rogers?"

"No." He smiles. "Not really." He turns away. "I think you can figure this one out by yourself, Agent."

He turns to go. She doesn't want him to, but because she doesn't have the willpower to stop him, she lets him leave anyway.

She feels like everything is slipping away from her nowadays.

Her hair has changed again, he notices. This time it's long and fiery red and curly - broad, sprawling waves falling below her waist. She glows a little, her catlike green eyes bright and intelligent, her lips curved into a genuine smile.

"Rogers," she starts to say, and stops herself. "Steve," she says instead, giving him that pretty smile.

"What's the cover this time?" he says, trying to force himself to be comfortable with her again.

"It's still in the works," she responds slyly. "I blew my last one pretty well."

"You certainly did," he says seriously. "Doesn't seem to take you long to come up with a new one, though. That imagination of yours..."

"I'm losing it," she says.

He looks up quite suddenly. "Excuse me?" It's so unlike Natasha to show any weakness, any lack of confidence...

She sighs. "I feel like I'm losing it, Steve. I can't keep going like this." She looks away. "You were right. This is no way to live."

"But it's a good way to survive," he quotes her.

She laughs. "You think?"

This vulnerable side of her is always so well hidden, so concealed, Steve thinks. He guesses he's always known it must exist, but until now he'd always somehow assumed maybe it just wasn't there. And now, just the two of them and Natasha so vulnerable - he puts a hand against her back absently, his fingers against her spine, reassuring.

"Steve?" she asks softly, and she sounds so young, so girlish.

He draws her close, all thoughts of Sharon banished from his mind. "Yeah?"

"You're still with me, aren't you? The world hates me, but..."

"Yeah," he says. "I'm with you to the end of the line."

She exhales slowly. "Thanks. I just don't want to lose you too." She turns slightly towards him, and as he guides her head gently to his shoulder, he glimpses unshed tears glimmering in her eyes, against her long, dark eyelashes.

"Sharon...she is good for you," Natasha says at last. "You're good for each other. I'm so happy for you, Steve."

"Thanks," he says, because it's all he can think to say. He doesn't want this. Not really.

She gives him her half smile, shifting away from him, but now it looks somehow weary. "I should go. I'm sure Fury will have something for me. Another individual mission or something. Another way to make myself another person." Her voice cracks. "I've been so many people that I don't even know who the real Natasha is anymore, Steve."

He meets her eyes solemnly, holding her hand tightly so she can't leave. Not like she wants to anyway. "I do," he says. "I know who the real Natasha is." He turns her so they're face to face. "She's right here, right now."

She's still wearing the half smile. "I don't want everything to keep slipping away. I don't want reality to just be a dream or a nightmare anymore."

"Then don't let it," he says, and stands to leave.

This time, when Natasha turns back to say his name - his first name, not his last - Steve kisses her.

He trusts her with his life and she trusts him with hers, and this time they're not letting go.


End file.
